


as long as there are stars

by ShowMeAHero



Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [27]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Spooning, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Eddie says. He sits up on the bed, leaning up and over Richie, close enough that Richie wraps his good hand up in Eddie’s shirt again and tips his chin up so they can kiss. Eddie sighs, then pulls back. “I’ll— I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, but I just— I don’t know. I feel—” He motions around himself like he’s miming static, and then groans in frustration.“C’mere,” Richie says, pulling Eddie in and kissing him again. Eddie withdraws, after a beat, climbing over Richie and settling along his side in bed.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493912
Comments: 16
Kudos: 286





	as long as there are stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruuhroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruuhroh/gifts).



> A commission for [@ruuhroh](https://twitter.com/ruuhroh) on Twitter!
> 
> Title taken from ["God Only Knows"](https://genius.com/The-beach-boys-god-only-knows-lyrics) by The Beach Boys.

Richie’s pretty sure that Eddie’s freaking out about Riley’s birthday being next weekend. He can only be pretty sure, though, because Eddie’s currently pacing back and forth across their bedroom and ranting about an article he’d just read on the website for the  _ Boston Globe,  _ which had then become a rant about paywalls and then journalistic integrity and now— Richie’s actually not sure. He’s been watching Eddie go back and forth more than he’s been listening, losing the thread of Eddie’s actual monologue in the cadence of his voice.

“Hey,” Richie says, when Eddie stops to tug his fingers through his hair. Eddie looks up at him, his face flushed, and Richie motions to him. Eddie’s clearly high-strung, his hands nearly shaking with agitation, and he bristles at being told what to do. Instead of motioning to him again, Richie looks down at his good hand as he uses it to push himself up.

Eddie comes to him then, helping him with his hands on his shoulders as he shifts him into a better sitting position. Once he’s within grabbing distance, Richie twists his good hand up in Eddie’s shirt and tugs him in closer.

“What’s bothering you?” Richie asks. Eddie frowns at him, pulling to move away. Richie doesn’t let him go. “Eds.”

“Nothing’s fucking bothering me, Jesus, it was just an article,” Eddie snaps, pulling himself out of Richie’s grip. Richie lets him go, just for a second, before he holds his hand out, palm-up. The two of them look at each other for a long moment before Eddie’s eyes slip down to Richie’s fingers, curling up slightly towards his palm. He still hesitates, prickling at the vulnerability of what he clearly wants to do. Richie’s proud of him for doing it anyways, slipping his hand into Richie’s and tangling their fingers together.

“It’s okay,” Richie tells him. Eddie shuts his eyes and sighs, a long exhale; after a beat, he sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches out with the arm in the cast, and Eddie leans towards him, but doesn’t meet his touch. Richie smiles slightly as he’s forced to close the distance himself, bare fingertips and rough plaster pushing into Eddie’s cheek.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Eddie says. He sits up on the bed, leaning up and over Richie, close enough that Richie wraps his good hand up in Eddie’s shirt again and tips his chin up so they can kiss. Eddie sighs, then pulls back. “I’ll— I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, but I just— I don’t know. I feel—” He motions around himself like he’s miming static, and then groans in frustration.

“C’mere,” Richie says, pulling Eddie in and kissing him again. Eddie withdraws, after a beat, climbing over Richie and settling along his side in bed. Richie holds Eddie’s jaw in place, deepening the kiss until Eddie’s breath starts to speed up, catching in his chest as one hand slides through Richie’s hair. He’s still tense, so Richie slips his hand down to tug Eddie’s pajama shorts down. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Eddie murmurs into Richie’s cheek, ducking his head down into the juncture between Richie’s shoulder and his throat. Richie pulls Eddie’s boxer-briefs off, too, and Eddie wriggles to pull them both all the way off and toss them aside. Richie trails his fingertips over one of Eddie’s thick, strong thighs, listening to the shallow, sharp inhales of his breath. Richie’s nails lightly drag along to the inside of Eddie’s thigh.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Richie says. Eddie makes a soft sound, nearly a whine, slipping unbidden from his throat. He’s so much stronger than Richie, and it drives Richie fucking  _ insane. _ He works out in the gym in their building nearly every morning, and it shows in the strength of his arms and his chest, in his pert ass and his sturdy thighs. Richie slides his palm over the v-muscle near Eddie’s groin, and Eddie’s head tips back as he groans.

“Rich,” Eddie says softly, then gasps when Richie kisses his throat, biting softly into the skin underneath his jawline. He twists his fingers up in Richie’s shirt, turning into him so the long line of his half-hard cock presses into Richie’s thigh; he can feel it filling rapidly against him, same as his own dick in his own pajama shorts. His hips roll into Richie’s leg, subconsciously grinding against him as Eddie clings to him. Richie opens the bedside table drawer with his casted arm and fishes around for their lube.

Eddie takes advantage of his distraction to lean up over him, biting Richie’s throat and sucking at the mark, making Richie keen with the unexpected sharpness of it. Eddie pulls him back by the hips, pushing his hard cock against Richie’s leg again. Richie makes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, and Eddie smiles against his skin.

Richie pushes Eddie back with his good hand so he has enough space to open to lube. He spreads it across his fingers and tosses the bottle aside before he reaches back down, lightly trailing his fingertip down from the small of Eddie’s back to his hole. He massages there with one lubed finger. Eddie rocks back onto him, just making those same soft sounds in his chest that Richie loves to hear, when he gets all quiet during sex and just turns himself over and lets Richie deal with everything so he doesn’t have to think. It’s a responsibility Richie takes pretty seriously.

“I love you so much,” Richie says, because he wants Eddie to know it. Eddie wraps himself around Richie like an octopus, clinging to him as Richie breaches his rim and slips his finger up to the first knuckle. Eddie whines softly as Richie does the same with his middle finger, pushing them both in to the second joint and starting to gently scissor him open. His breath catches again, his face pushing up into Richie’s neck as he moans quietly, voice caught in Richie’s skin. “Look at you—”

_ “Ah,”  _ Eddie gasps, and Richie pushes his fingers all the way in, letting Eddie adjust for a moment before he twists his wrist, searching and finding the bundle of nerves that makes Eddie inhale sharply, his eyes slamming shut and his back arching. Richie pulls his fingers out, pushing Eddie onto his back and shifting onto his own side, leaning over him and slipping his hand back under Eddie. Eddie pulls one leg up, shuffles slightly so Richie can slip his fingers back in, but when he does, finally at a good angle to fuck Eddie’s prostate with his fingers, Eddie’s head is falling back into their pillows.

“You’re doing amazing,” Richie says, “I’m so proud of you, you make me so happy, I just think about you and— and how much I’ve loved—” Richie groans, because Eddie’s falling apart under him and it’s hard to keep a steady train of thought while that’s happening, but he fucking  _ tries, _ “I— Just— How  _ long  _ I’ve loved you, Eddie,  _ fuck,  _ and to see how amazing you—”

_ “Rich,”  _ Eddie whispers, back arching up a bit off the bed. Richie slips his third finger in, pushes them all in to the last joint before starting to fingerfuck him in earnest. Richie’s other hand is in the cast, so he can’t wrap it around Eddie’s cock, but Eddie’s got his hands fisted in their sheets and he isn’t even touching his  _ own  _ dick, so Richie leaves him alone, kisses him on the cheek as he fucks his fingertips into Eddie’s prostate over and over.

Eddie’s still quiet, but he’s gasping, soft moans and stilted gasps falling out of his mouth as Richie drags him closer to an orgasm. Eddie still doesn’t reach up for his dick, so Richie kisses the thin skin underneath Eddie’s jaw and curls his fingers, stroking along Eddie’s prostate on the next push in, and Eddie groans, a sound that comes quietly from deep inside of his chest as he cums, untouched, all over his own chest and belly. Richie keeps fucking him through it until Eddie’s whimpering and pulling away from him, so Richie slips his fingers out.

“Rich,” Eddie says, then turns his head, chest heaving as he studies Richie’s face against the pillows. “I want you to fuck me, I miss your cock. Will you fuck me?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay, just—” Richie looks them over, trying to make his brain work. Now that Eddie’s come all over himself— which is distracting enough, and Richie keeps getting stuck looking at his cum all over his own chest— he’s able to actually think, and all he can think  _ about _ is how fucking hard he is, throbbing in his pajama shorts. The only reason he hasn’t been able to fuck Eddie is because it’s pretty much impossible with his casts, but he’s so determined now that he just pushes Eddie around until he’s spooning him, Eddie’s back to Richie’s chest.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” Eddie asks. Richie tucks his face into Eddie’s throat, kissing along his pounding veins.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Richie says. “It doesn’t hurt. I got you. Don’t worry.”

Eddie starts to say something else, but then Richie shifts, managing to tug his shorts down to his knees, tangled around the cast on one leg and the brace on the other. It doesn’t really matter, though, because his cock is free. Eddie twists around, pulls Richie’s clothes off for him, and Richie has to tug him in and kiss him for it.

He turns Eddie back around, pulls his hips up until they’re flush with his own, the hard line of his own cock pressing between his thighs. Eddie pushes back against him, but Richie doesn’t let himself get rushed. Eddie’s still obviously a little distracted, a little tense, which is the opposite of what Richie wants, and what Eddie obviously needs. He slips two fingers into Eddie again, making him groan softly and tip his head back into Richie’s chest.

“Alright, there,” Richie says, feeling Eddie relaxing further into him, still plenty loose from getting fingerbanged to orgasm. Eddie sighs, turning his face up until he’s nosing under the line of Richie’s jaw. Richie lets him do whatever he wants, as long as he keeps relaxing. He kisses the top of Eddie’s head, sweaty curls caught under his mouth.

Eddie pushes back into him, almost subconscious, and Richie slips his fingers out so he can reach around and wrap his hand around Eddie’s dick instead. He’s working his way back up to half-hard, because he’s over forty and just came untouched, but Richie’s hand helps, apparently, since Richie can  _ feel  _ the pulses of his cock filling between his fingers. Eddie groans, his hips pushing up into Richie’s touch, and Richie strokes up, just once. Eddie moans again.

Richie wishes his cast was off, because he’d appreciate being able to use both of his hands right now. Instead, he has to settle for letting go of Eddie so he can line the head of his own dick up with Eddie’s hole. Eddie inhales sharply, his eyes slipping shut as Richie just pushes the tip in. He exhales, then, out through his nose, all at once; Richie takes his hip in his hand to push in a few more inches, feeling the tight heat of Eddie almost drawing him in. He has to force himself to take his time and not thrust in all at once.

“Richie,” Eddie says, so softly, his hand falling down to cover Richie’s on his own hip. His other hand goes to his dick, stroking it slowly once, then twice, his rhythm faltering when Richie pushes in a little bit further, shifting to readjust with only one hand and limited mobility. Eddie doesn’t push back anymore, just lets Richie take over and do what he wants, which is exactly what Richie’s been angling for; he pushes in deeper, then further still, breath by breath until he’s flush with Eddie, sheathed completely inside of him.

He stops, catching his breath, his hand sliding up from Eddie’s hip to press into his chest. He wraps his arm tightly around Eddie, then lifts himself to pull out his other arm, cast be fucking damned, and wraps them both around Eddie, holding him close against his chest like he’s hugging him from behind. One of Eddie’s arms wraps up with Richie’s, holding him tightly in place, but his other hand stays loosely wrapped around his own cock, just enough to give him friction.

Eddie sighs, when Richie shifts, so he moves again, slipping out and slowly rocking back in, enough to make Eddie groan again, a sound that vibrates from deep inside his chest. Richie can feel it through his front and his back, against his own chest on one side and through his palms on the other. He chases that, unhurried, pulling Eddie in closer so he can find his prostate and slip against it with his next thrust.

“I could do this for the rest of my life,” Richie says quietly. Eddie shuts his eyes again, tears starting to gather as he turns his face back until he almost knocks Richie in the chin. Richie just kisses him on the cheek and murmurs, “I could spend the rest of my fucking life taking you apart and putting you back together, Eds. It’d be my fucking  _ honor.” _

“Richie, please,” Eddie whispers. His hands are shaking, and his grip on his cock tightens for a moment, jerking up before he releases himself again and reaches up to just cling to Richie instead. Richie tucks his face into Eddie’s throat, slips his hand out of Eddie’s hold and wraps it around his dick himself so he’s surrounded by Richie on all sides. Richie’s huge hand is around his cock, his body’s draped all along Eddie’s back, his cock is fit snugly inside Eddie’s ass, trying to envelope him everywhere in the best ways he can.

“I got you,” Richie assures him, voice muffled by Eddie’s flushed skin. “I got you, there—” And he slips his hand up on Eddie’s cock, stroking him slowly as he thrusts in again, then again, slow, unrushed, just trying to drag as many sounds out of Eddie as he can. Eddie’s apparently done with English, his words devolving from Richie’s name and a variety of swears into soft whimpers and throaty groans, falling out of his mouth desperately.

Richie maneuvers himself again, lifts himself up slightly so he can fuck into Eddie at a slightly different angle, but it’s apparently just the right one, because Eddie sharply sucks in air, his back arching and his head pushing back into Richie’s shoulder. Richie ducks his head into Eddie’s throat again, keeps the same rhythm and the same positioning and rolls his hips, slipping almost entirely out before he pushes back in, unable to stop himself from letting out a soft whine as he slides through Eddie’s tight heat.

Even though Richie finds a steady pace and firmly, slowly fucks into Eddie’s prostate on every push in, Eddie’s still just whimpering through it, letting out these soft, breathy gasps when Richie finally hits his prostate each time. Richie strokes Eddie’s cock in time with his thrusts, drawing a sharp inhale the first time he does it and deep hums that rumble out of his chest each subsequent time, breathier after each one, his nails digging into Richie’s arm. Richie’s barely hanging on, trying his best to keep this going as long as he can for Eddie, but the slow drag over his cock over and over is making his brain fucking explode. He can barely think straight, moving mostly on instinct and the desire to take Eddie apart.

Eddie’s successfully apart, it seems, since he’s trembling in Richie’s hold and gasping sharply on each thrust and unable to do anything more than cling to him and moan through it. Richie can feel when Eddie gets close, can feel how there’s hardly any breaths coming in between the moans falling from his chest and out of his mouth. His dick’s impossibly hard in Richie’s hand, throbbing on the thrusts in until Eddie’s sobbing, Richie’s thumb slipping over his slit. He smears precum down over the lube and cum still slicking Eddie’s cock, sucking a hickey into Eddie’s throat as he strokes him, slow and firm, with one hand, and fucks into his prostate at the same time.

There’s only so much longer either of them can last, like that, and especially Eddie, who twists to try and fuck himself back on Richie at the same time he’s trying to fuck up into Richie’s fist, writhing to try and get whatever it is he needs to reach his second climax. Richie bites at his skin, licks over the wound gently and kisses up into his jawline, his own glasses getting displaced as Eddie drops his head back again.

_ “Richie,”  _ Eddie manages, and then he’s  _ done,  _ coming so hard it catches both of them under the jaw, mixing with the cum still smeared across Eddie’s chest from earlier. Richie stills, pushed up into Eddie’s prostate, stroking him through the waves of his orgasm as Eddie gasps, clearly not entirely present as he rides it out. He twists up, his back arching as he moans through his orgasm before finally collapsing back against Richie, trembling.

Richie holds still, shaking himself as he tries not to move when all he wants to do is spill in Eddie’s ass. Luckily, Eddie inhales sharply, then twists back and says, “Rich,  _ move—”  _ and so Richie does, pushes into Eddie once, twice more, then cums himself, head dropping down into Eddie’s hair as he muffles the loud whine that slips out with it, trying to breathe as heat unfurls and spreads through his limbs, letting the last of their tension finally seep out of them.

When Richie comes back into his own brain, Eddie’s still clinging to him, half-on his back and half-on his side as he curls up into Richie, his chest still heaving. Richie puts his hand on Eddie’s hip and slowly pulls out, kissing away the bereft groan Eddie gives in response. He digs through their nightstand for baby wipes, since it’ll take too long for him to get to the bathroom and back for a washcloth with his casts, and Eddie will probably just get frustrated again while he’s gone.

Instead, he slides one of the small cloths up over Eddie’s chest, going one square inch of skin at a time to clean him up until he’s pink and flushed and spotless, a boneless pile of limbs in the middle of their bed. Richie flicks their light off and tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, pulls him in close. The moonlight slips through the window, the brightness sufficient to cast Eddie in enough light to be seen by, and so Richie kisses him like he’s the one responsible for it, like he’s hung the moon and all the stars, because it sometimes feels like he  _ has.  _ When Eddie clings to him and falls apart and cums twice on Richie’s cock, all hard lines and muscle and breathy sighs— it’s enough to drive Richie to madness.

“You know I love you, right?” Richie asks. Eddie hums tiredly. “I mean it. I want you to know how much I fucking love you, because it’s insane.”

“Rich,” Eddie murmurs. Richie kisses his temple, pulling Eddie’s head in to thread his fingers through his hair and hold him close. Eddie turns and curls up around him, head against his chest. Richie kisses his hair again.

“I know shit gets to you and I know you get stressed out,” Richie continues, like Eddie hadn’t even tried to interrupt him. Eddie sighs; Richie can feel his skin heating up, flushing underneath him, probably embarrassed or a little angry still. Richie strokes his hand slowly down the relaxed line of Eddie’s spine, pushing his thumb into the muscles around the knots of it as he goes, up and down. Eddie’s eyes slip shut again.

“I don’t mean to,” Eddie says. Richie tips his head back and shuts his own eyes, fingertips tracing absently up Eddie’s back.

“I know,” Richie says. “It doesn’t bother me. Well, it only bothers me because  _ you’re  _ bothered and I want you to be happy. I know this shit’s all stressful but I— I don’t know, I want you to know I’m here with you. And I love you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, for a minute. Doesn’t move or respond at all, actually, which is unsettling, but Richie just waits him out, because this is Eddie. All he needs to do is wait and Eddie will find his way; he always does.

He’s right to wait, because, once Eddie’s ready, he shifts and cups Richie’s face in one hand, leaning up over to kiss him softly. Richie slips his own hand up, presses firm into Eddie’s face to return the soft kiss. Eddie sighs again, there, before pulling back.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He looks exhausted, and his hands are still shaking, so Richie kisses him again and pulls him down, tucks Eddie’s head under his chin and keeps rubbing his back, over and over, in a slow, steady rhythm, until he can feel Eddie’s breathing even out. He keeps going even then, until he feels Eddie’s eyes flutter closed against his skin. It takes him a while to actually fall asleep, but Richie waits him out, just stroking up and down his back over and over while Eddie clings to him, falling into tranquil sleep while Richie watches over him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/). I'm currently taking commissions there, as well!


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